The Automatic Sands of Space Florida: a sequel
by thesmileofawinchester
Summary: A sequel to my previous fic 'Remembrance'. Amy struggles to come to terms with Rory's death, and the Doctor struggles with his feelings for her. I do not own any of the characters, not right now anyway.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a sequel to '**Remembrance**_'_. If you haven't read it, you can find it on my profile. If you have read it... Read on :)_

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Amy stepped out of the TARDIS and took in the scenery around her. They had landed in a sand based parking lot, on a ledge overlooking the ocean, the most beautiful ocean she had ever seen, a twinkling, sea-green ocean. On either side of her, palm trees were swaying in the warm breeze. Compared to the cold, unforgiving WWII base she had only recently been in, Space Florida felt like heaven.

She heard the Doctor exit and lock the TARDIS behind her, carrying their suitcases.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He asked. "Exactly what the Doctor ordered." He chuckled at his own joke. He stepped up somewhat nervously behind her, almost patting her gently on the shoulder, but backing his hand away at the last minute. The tension that had been created between them since Amy's memory had been restored was still there, even if she appeared to be slightly happier. Or was he imagining it? "Let's check in," he told her. "We can explore later."

She reluctantly turned away from the view and they trudged through the sand together to the hotel. It was tall, Amy guessed at least twenty stories, and a buttercup yellow, mellow against the midday sun: or suns, she noticed, as she spotted the two stars high in the sky. They quickly reached the reception, and the Doctor brushed off his trousers before walking to the main desk and ringing on the bell obnoxiously cheerfully. An attendant jumped up from behind the desk, her smile as sunny as outside. She had a badge pinned to her flimsy bikini top naming her 'Tiffany'.

"Hi there!" She cried. "Can I help you guys?" Amy raised her eyebrows at Tiffany's attire, instantly disliking her as she pointed her attention, and her ample bosom beneath the flimsy material, to the Doctor.

"Yes, we would like two rooms please!" He said. "Your very finest rooms."

"Certainly, Sir!" She said. "Adjoining?"

"Yeah, why not?" He said. "It'll be like a sleepover." He told her with a smile.

"Great." She said. Amy wondered if she meant it.

While the Doctor sorted out the fiscal side of the holiday, another similarly dressed woman approached them, wearing a green flimsy bikini top and a matching skirt, with a name badge declaring her 'Bonnie'.

"Welcome to Vili Hotel!" She said enthusiastically, placing a lei around Amy's neck, and then round the Doctors. "We hope you enjoy your stay here." She smiled widely.

"Thanks." Amy muttered.

"The flowers symbolise romance and passion!" Bonnie explained. Amy raised her eyebrows and the Doctor quickly looked round.

"Um... Have you got one in 'Friendship'?" He asked her, and she just shook her head sweetly. "Hmmm." He moaned, and gave back the wreath, and Amy lethargically followed suit. Just someone speaking about romance begun to send Amy down again, she found herself reminded of Rory's death again, her best friend, her fiancé, it hit her almost as hard as the first time. She fought back tears.

The Doctor noticed, and having finished the transaction he quickly steered her to the lifts. Another woman tried to offer them floral wreaths again, but the Doctor firmly turned them down, not caring about hurting their feelings. He could see Amy closing down again, her body emotionally shutting down, just as she had begun to perk up again. He tried to get her talking in the startlingly quick journey.

"Nice here, isn't it?" He asked. She nodded dully.

"I'm going to have to show you the automatic sand. I forgot to out there." He tried again, but Amy stayed silent.

"Wait till I take you to the sand dunes, they're amazing! They massage your feet as you walk! Brilliant planet, this is."

Amy said nothing, barely hearing what the Doctor had been saying. They were now at their rooms, and the Doctor opened hers and walked in with the cases, placing Amy's on the floor.

"I'll just drop my stuff," he said, indicating at his considerably smaller case. "And then we can go explore. That'll be fun, won't it?"

"Actually," Said Amy. "I might just stay in here for a bit."

"What?" The Doctor cried indignantly. "There's so much to see, and you want to stay in here?"She nodded, and blinked back tears that she knew were beginning to approach. The Doctor saw. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

She shook her head. "No," She said, her Scottish accent thick with the tears that were about to hit. "You go out and have fun. I'll be fine." She turned her back on him and picked up the suit case to make her point.

The Doctor hesitated for a few seconds; he was torn. Clearly Amy didn't want him there right now, but he didn't want her to be alone. But maybe she should be alone?

Plus, there was the fact that the Doctor was never any good with crying women.

He silently left the room, cursing his cowardice, and stood outside the door, listening to her muffled sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

As the Doctor stood on the wrong side of the door listening to Amy's sobs, he faced a dilemma. Should he go in and comfort his friend, or should he leave her alone. He knew very little about women, and much less about crying women.

'_What do you even think would happen?'_ The little voices in his head taunted. '_Would she suddenly cheer up? Would she come out and have fun?'_

"Probably not." The Doctor admitted.

'_It's more than that though, isn't it?' _The voices continued. '_You want her to stop moping about over Rory, and fall in love with you, don't you?'_

"No." The Doctor denied, a little too loudly. He smacked his forehead to stop the voices.

'_It would never happen anyway..._'

A memory replayed in the Doctors mind: when Amy had first remembered Rory. He remembered her lips soft and demanding against his, the way she threw herself at him in her grief. The way he enjoyed it, even though he tried not to.

"No." He said again, more softly. He couldn't risk it, he decided. He wouldn't go back in her room and try to comfort her.

"I'm setting an example." He said to himself. "If I go outside, she'll follow. Maybe." His confidence wavered, and he eyed up the door again. A vision entered his head, of what would happen if he entered the room; he imagined them kissing, his hands in her hair, her hands beneath his tweed jacket.

"No!" He cried again, slapping his forehead again. He had to stop thinking like this. It wasn't on. It wasn't appropriate.

He forced himself away from the door, and walked down the corridor to the lifts. He concentrated on the afternoon ahead of him, the planet that needed exploring.


	3. Chapter 3

Amy waited for the door to click shut behind the Doctor before she let her fast unravelling charade drop. She had been trying so hard to maintain an illusion that she was alright, that she was coping with everything that was happening, and had even managed to convince herself, just a tiny bit, until this.

What had the Doctor been thinking? Bringing her to a holiday destination which was so clearly catered for couples in love? Where there would be, if the Doctor's description was correct, nothing to take her mind off of it? Nothing to take her mind off of Rory?

But, for the last few months that was exactly what she had been doing; her mind had been far away from Rory, she had forgotten his very existence. She needed to think about it, she needed to take some time out to think. Just think. The Doctor knew this, but at this moment, Amy didn't. Amy was in too much pain, too distraught, to understand his logic.

She dropped the suitcase back down on the floor, and climbed onto the bed as the tears escaped from her chest. She sobbed, her tears beginning silently, the only noise coming from her burdened breathing, but she became louder, her crying now audible. She crawled to the top of the bed and reached for the pillow, embracing it, holding it to her chest. She brought her knees to the cushion, and there she rocked as the tears continued, great coughing sobs now erupting from her chest, getting to the point where she could barely breathe.

There had been so many times that she had shared with Rory, all the times he had been there for her when others weren't, all the times he had been the most wonderful man in the world. But not one of those times did she remember as she cried in that hotel room. For that first night all she thought of was Rory's last moments, the look on his face as he died, his last words.

"_I'm sorry."_ He had said. She cried even harder when she remembered that. He apologised for dying, his last emotion one of regret.

All of this swirled round and round in Amy's head for a few hours, before she eventually tired herself out and fell asleep.

She knew it was better to be feeling this all than to repress it like before, but _oh_, how painful it was.


	4. Chapter 4

So the Doctor went out. Nodding to the receptionist and saying a quick "No, thank you" to the lei distributor, he left the foyer and walked out into the bright afternoon sunslight. The scenery was beautiful, and as he walked further away from the hotel he could see more of it and found himself impressed by the natural beauty of the world; the more commercial parts being up the coast a bit. He turned right, heading for the cliffs overlooking the ocean.

Within half an hour he was bored. There was a reason he always went on adventures, fought danger and sought mischief, because he had never been much of a 'walking for the sake of walking' type of man. With only this to occupy his time, he was bored. Of course he was worried about Amy, of course he was, but his mighty, huge brain was fantastic at multi-tasking. When Amy had been in grave danger earlier, his whole brain focused on that, but with her safely tucked up in a hotel room, the Doctor had room to think about other things. These other things occupied his mind for about as long as he remained interested in them, and within half an hour, he was back to thinking about Amy.

He was sad, because she was. He was scared that she would want to leave. He was... he was feeling something about her that he was trying to squash down, and had been trying to squash since she had first kissed him, back in her bedroom oh so long ago.

The Doctor stopped himself before he let himself think too far down that road, and tried to focus on the planet. He looked to his feet, where he saw the sand beneath them ripple, mirroring the waves on the ocean. He saw a twig being rolled across the sand, before being stopped when the system decided it wasn't considered trash. He wondered what they did with the trash at the hotel; did they throw it out on the sand for the natural world to deal with? He hoped not, but he decided that they probably did... he could remember the planet being shut temporarily for cleaning a few centuries ahead of now. He should find out what the hotel does with the rubbish, at least for something to do. He wondered which room was Amy's; he scanned the building, trying to remember. Floor twelve, it had been, and how many doors? Four, he decided, four from the lifts. And the lifts were parallel to the foyer... so that would make _that_ window Amy's. He pulled out a pair of glasses from his pocket, a pair that doubled up as binoculars, and focused on the window. He could see a wall, and the edge of a painting, but no Amy. Was she alright? He found himself panicking a bit, and forced himself to calm down. There was plenty of the room that he couldn't see; she would be in that part. Where ever she was, she would be fine. There was no danger to her on this planet, he made sure of it. He double, triple checked that this planet was safe, that no harm could come to Amy during their stay here.

For Amy, he would suffer boredom.

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You know... Reviews make me write faster...


	5. Chapter 5

As the suns set (a beautiful scene to behold) and the moons began to rise, the Doctor made his way back to the hotel. Performing the same routine as before when passing through the foyer, he quickly made his way back up to the twelfth floor, and stood outside Amy's room. He listened for a few seconds, but could hear nothing. He gently tapped on her door.

"Amy?" He called hesitantly. "You okay?"

There was no response. He wondered if she was asleep, and then wondered if she was even still in there. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the door, but didn't push down on the button. He felt conflicted. He wanted to go in, to check on her, to see her sleeping safely, tucked into bed. But he knew that what he was about to do would invade her privacy. She hadn't wanted him there earlier, and she hadn't called him to bring him back. She wanted to be on her own. What if she was awake, waiting for him to leave.

"Amy?" He called again, a little louder this time. "Are you in there?"

Still no response. He screwed up his eyes and pressed down on the button, unlocking the door. He inched it open, and found the room lit dully from the moonlight through the window; the artificial lighting having turned off long ago from lack of movement. It flickered on again as he entered the room, but he quickly turned it down with a blast of the sonic.

He felt himself exhale a breath that he didn't know he had been holding when he saw Amy curled up on the bed, her long red hair a mask over her face and she was holding on tightly to a pillow from the bed. He smiled from the doorway; she was safe.

"Should leave now." He whispered to himself, but he didn't. Instead he found himself softly creeping in to get closer to her. As he walked round the bed he could see more of her face peeking through her hair, and he could see her puffy eyes, a tell tale sign that she had been crying.

"Really need to leave now." He told himself. Instead he walked closer, now inches away from the beautiful woman lying on the bed. Despite his better judgement, he carefully reached out and brushed away the hair from her face, a few silky strands sticking to her dried tears. He smiled sadly, wanting nothing more to hold her, but knew he couldn't wake her. It was a strange sort of agony.

He took the sheet at the end of the bed and spread it across her, the thin material sinking slowly through the air before it finally landed on her, her sleeping form making more of an impact to the material than it did to her. She still slept, holding onto her pillow. She looked so vulnerable.

The Doctor leant down and very gently laid a kiss on her forehead, before quickly straightening up. That was the most he could do, he would not cross a line. He had already done far too much against Amy's will.

He left the room silently, locking it behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor waited until half seven exactly before getting up from his bed. He hadn't slept much, the actual act of sleeping being somewhat of a rare activity for a Time Lord, but he indulged in a couple of hours of light rest, keeping himself alert, just in case Amy should need him. Apparently, she didn't. She had slept through the night, if the complete silence was any indication. Complete silence from _her _room anyway, the same could not be said of the couple on the other side. The walls were soundproofed, but no match for a Time Lord's superior hearing.

For the next two days there was little to be heard from Amy. He tried his best, attempting to be a good example and going out, but found little more than met the eye. The location was designed to be the ideal tropical getaway, an ideal which had been reached many a time before, and one that the Doctor had become so familiar with in his youth that he now found it incredibly boring.

The food he got room service to send up was left unnoticed outside the door, a sight that got more and more depressing each time he approached her door. He would try knocking of course, but she would barely reply.

"Amy?" He had called the first morning after he had heard her wake up. There was no reply, and after a few minutes he gave up.

In the evening he tried again. "Amy? Are you still in there?" She didn't reply until his persistent knocking and calling drove her to the other side of the door.

"Go away, Doctor." She said, just loud enough to be heard. He hesitated for a few seconds.

"Amy..." He said, but he heard her walk away from the door and back to her bed.

On the third morning he tried again. "Amy, please come out!" He called. He heard her moving. "Amy, I can hear you moving." He informed her, getting desperate. He knew he should let her recover in her own time, but locking herself away in this room couldn't be healthy, could it?

"What do you want, Doctor?" Amy asked from inside.

He bit down the obvious answer, opting for a more reasonable answer. "I'm worried about you, Amy."

"I'm fine." She told him.

"You're not." He said quietly, probably too quiet for her to hear. "It's no fun without you!" He told her, sounding like a whinging child.

"Oh, don't be such a baby." He heard her say through the door. He smiled; it was the most Amy-esque thing he'd heard her say for a while. Maybe she was starting to feel better?

"If you come out I'll show you round the resort," he told her. "We can go scuba diving! Have you ever been, Amy? The fish out here are fantastic, they'll come right up and sniff your nose!" Silence on the other side of the door. "Though you might want to be careful of the Piranhas... nasty little fellows, they are."

He heard her softly chuckle through the door. He smiled, and placed his palm flat on the door – so close to her.

"Will you come out?" He asked her sadly.

She sighed. "Not right now, Doctor." She told him. "Maybe later."

He sighed and let his forehead rest on the door, imagining it was Amy he was touching, not the cool wood. He knew he could reach into his pocket and get the sonic screwdriver, and be in the room with Amy. It would only take a few seconds. But he wouldn't. He took Amy here to let her do what she wanted to do, to let her grieve and get it out of her system. Even if she didn't want to see him.

"Whatever you want." He told her. He left the door, and made his way back down to the foyer.

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Happy Two Thousand and Matt Smith, y'all!

Might've got a tumblr, if anyone's interested :) - mrsjessicawho


	7. Chapter 7

Amy was gradually woken by the bright light edging its way across the room through the crack in the curtains. She grimaced as she wiped sleep from her eyes, momentarily confused as to where she was, until she remembered the events of yesterday.

She sighed and swept the hair from her face, wincing as strands that had been stuck down by tears peeled off. She looked down at the pillows and saw them stained with salt. She had spent a long time crying the night before.

She flopped back down into the bed, not caring enough to take a shower. She didn't have any plans of leaving the room. Not for a while. In fact, she had no plans, nothing past lying here in bed and wallowing; reminiscing, remembering Rory, mourning him, and the same for Joseph.

Shortly after this she heard a knocking at the door. She heard the Doctor call her name. She remained in bed, and tried to ignore him, tune him out.

Each time he returned it became harder and harder for her to ignore him, though. Since she first met him, she had this compulsion to follow him wherever he went; the Doctor and Amy, always together. When he called her name, she would come running. So each time he waited at her door, every time he called for her to join him, she denied her very nature by not opening that door.

On the second day it dawned on her just how patient he was being. He could get into the room any time that he wanted, lock or no lock, to see her. Yet he didn't. Instead he did all else that he could; he knocked for her, he checked on her, he kept sending food up, which lay untouched on the other side of the door.

He knocked again. "Amy? Are you still in there?" She heard him call. She looked up at the door, picturing him there on the other side of the door. What would he look like, she wondered. Would he still have his tweed jacket on, his bow tie, even in this heat? How would he be standing? She tried to get an exact model of him in her mind, and rose from the bed to the door, following the illusion.

She smiled as she flicked through her mental photo album, picturing him, all his smiles, all his frowns, his laugh. She smiled.

And then she remembered the times he had let her down. When he left her for twelve years, when he left her for two. When he didn't act fast enough and let Rory die.

"Amy?" He asked through the door.

"Go away, Doctor." She said wearily, just loud enough for him to hear. She crawled back into bed and begun to cry again.

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Is anyone elses traffic stats down or is it just me?


	8. Chapter 8

_Amy was in the dark. She was alone. She was cold, and she was scared. There was no one around. She sat alone, and oh so scared in her room, little Amelia Pond, not afraid of anything..._

_Suddenly, she wasn't alone. A man was holding her hand, a tall man. A man in a blue torn shirt, and a long tie... he took her hands. She wasn't alone. She trusted that man, he took away her fear._

_But then he smiled and let go of her hands. He stepped backwards into the darkness and disappeared, and no matter how far she ran she couldn't find him._

_But then there was someone else, someone else in the cold, frightening dark. A friend. No matter where she looked her friend was there. Always there. It was a pity she wasn't looking for him._

_She kept looking past the friend, until eventually she saw. The raggedy man was back, in the dark with her. He took her hands again._

_She wasn't scared any more._

On the third morning she was yet again woken up by the brilliant sunslight creeping through the curtains. She stretched, cat-like, spread herself across the bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall onto the dream she had been having. But she remembered nothing but darkness and fear.

Sighing, she rolled over and looked to the window. She squinted in the daylight and wiped her face, clearing her eyes of the itchy sleep dust that had accumulated in her eyes in the last few days. Sitting up, she stretched again, feeling three days worth of rest in her body. She needed to get up.

She got out of bed slowly, lowering one leg from the covers at a time and placing her feet on the floor. She stayed like this for a minute, feeling the cool breeze (cool compared to under the covers, anyway) caress her legs, before grimacing at the state of herself. Three days of bed rest, plus an underground adventure takes its toll on a girl's hygiene regime.

She stood up, slightly wobbly on her feet , and padded over to the window. Peeling back the curtains an inch she could see outside, and found herself slightly breath taken by the view. She could see the ocean, the beautiful blue ocean rippling back and forth, glittering under the mid morning sun. She smiled. Even in her shattered emotional state she could still appreciate a beautiful planet. She considered whether today was the day to leave the room. Once she'd taken a shower, of course.

She heard a knocking at the door, and heard the Doctor call through the door. "Amy, please come out!" She turned around to face the door, and considered what to do. "Amy, I can hear you moving." He told her. He sounded so... forlorn.

"What do you want, Doctor?" She called, and without realising it walked over to the door. She tried to peek through the gap where the door and the frame met, but it was an exact fit and she could see nothing.

"I'm worried about you, Amy." He replied eventually. He sounded so sad. Part of her really wanted to open the door, but something inside was stopping her. She still wanted to be alone.

"I'm fine." She tried to assure him. She turned round and leant her back against the wall.

She heard him mumble something, but didn't ask what he said. He spoke again. "It's no fun without you!" He whinged through the door.

"Oh don't be such a baby." She snapped back.

"If you come out I'll show you round the resort," he told her. "We can go scuba diving! Have you ever been, Amy? The fish out here are fantastic, they'll come right up and sniff your nose!" She smiled at the thought. "Though you might want to be careful of the Piranhas... nasty little fellows, they are."

She chuckled at the thought, and at the Doctor. He always had a way of making her laugh, even now. She stroked the door with her fingertips.

"Will you come out?" He asked seriously. She could hear the sadness in his voice, and she felt her heart throb almost painfully. She considered it, she considered leaving the room, to be with the one thing she had left in the world, her one companion. But modesty took over. She needed a shower, she needed to wash her hair; she didn't want the Doctor seeing her like this. He had seen her at worse, she knew, but this was too...

She sighed. "Not right now, Doctor." She told him. "Maybe later."

The Doctor was silent for a few seconds, and she felt a pang of guilt. "Whatever you want." He told her.

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I joked with my friend that if I got 2 reviews in a day, I would put up two chapters in a day. Guess who got 2 reviews?  
Note: This will not always work, only if I have been keeping up with the chapters. My Who Years resolution is to write something every day, and so far I've been keeping it :D  
And reviews _still_ make me write faster, just reminding you.


	9. Chapter 9

Amy stepped out of the luxurious shower and wrapped a towel around her, amazed at the soft material. Far more advanced than towels that she was used to, it claimed on the label to soak up excess water swiftly and efficiently, and to wash it in a hot cycle. Though as to how it didn't soak up the water from the machines, Amy couldn't work out.

She left the bathroom and went back into the bedroom, blinking in the dull light, a stark contrast to the warm yellow lighting of the bathroom. Walking towards the light emanating from the windows, she drew back the curtain and found herself smiling at the scene below. The midday sunslight was warm and bright across the sky, and the enticing ocean undulated beneath it. She did a double take as she saw the sand move, and moved toward the window to watch it ripple, the automatic sand.

She looked at the people walking by, the people on the beach as they swam and frolicked in the waves, and sunbathed on the sand. None of them looked familiar; she couldn't see the Doctor. She supposed the beach wasn't really his type of thing.

She opened the window and inhaled the air. Instead of salty, like she remembered the seaside being, it smelt sweet, like sugar and syrup. She smiled as she felt a slight breeze across her cheeks. It felt good; she had been breathing the same stale air for three days now. She wanted out, she wanted to feel the sand and the sea.

She dressed quickly, putting on a modest red swimming costume with a sarong around it, and grabbed a hat and sunglasses while packing a small bag with a water bottle and some sun cream; the TARDIS seemed to know exactly what to include in her luggage. With only slight trepidation, she unlocked the door and left the room, locking it behind her with a key card that she had found on top of her luggage.

The corridor was empty. She had half expected to find the Doctor outside waiting. Okay, more than half expected. She probably overestimated his so called 'psychic abilities'. She went to his door, one door down from hers, and quickly rapped on the door before she could change her mind. Looking down at her feet she let her mind wander, thinking about her flip flops, how she _really_ needed some form of pedicure. She wondered what sort of shoes the Doctor was wearing, or if he was wearing any at all; he had been raving about the sand that massages people's feet after all. Would he really still be wearing that ridiculous bow tie?

After a minute she remembered what she was actually doing, and realised he hadn't opened the door. She called his name.

"Doctor?" She called. "Are you in there?" She waited for an answer, but none came. He must be out. It looked like she would have to find the beach all by herself, then.

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So yesterday I FINALLY introduced my flatmate to the wonders of Doctor Who - we watched the entire first series, plus Children In Need special and the Christmas Invasion in one day. It worked, she likes it, but she doesn't think that David is going to be nearly as good as Chris. Oh is _she _gonna learn? :D

Also, hi to missesme, who I know is reading this RIGHT THIS SECOND because of the email notifications of reviews coming through. Glad you like it!


	10. Chapter 10

Amy reached the sandy beach, a destination marked as separate from the grounds of the hotel only by a slight sand dune. She kicked off her flip flops, realising how cumbersome they were, sinking into the fluid sand rather than remaining stable. As soon as she put her foot down on the ground she sighed contentedly; the sand truly did massage your feet.

Experimentally she lay down on the sand, relaxing her head back, and sighed again. It was like that massage chair that old Mrs Phinney had for her arthritis, or something, but a million times better. It gently rocked her as it rippled beneath her, stroking all of the physical tension she felt in her muscles away. She felt relaxed, peaceful, human again.

Sitting up before she forgot, she removed the sun cream from her bag and started to apply it liberally to her body. Being ginger with pale, freckly skin meant that Amy didn't tan, and never had, instead her skin would go bright pink, highly unattractive. Rory would always try to cover a smirk when she caught the sun, but would usually fail, earning him a slap.

She paused mid-wipe at the thought of Rory. She realised that she had barely thought about him at all that day. It felt... strange. In fact, it felt like when she had first joined the Doctor, Rory had been far from her thoughts, concentrating as hard as she was on the adventures, the fun, the life she was having with the Doctor. Still, even the smallest thought was thinking considerably more about him than she had for a few months.

"Need any help there?" She heard someone say, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up to see a man towering over her, blocking the light from one of the suns.

"No, I'm fine." She said stubbornly. She didn't need anyone's help.

"You sure?" He asked again. "Not even on your back? That's always tricky to reach." He told her with a wink. She looked up properly, raising a hand to block the light from the other sun so she could see him. He was tall, definitely, even by her standards, with toned muscles to match: wearing only bathing shorts his body was there for all to see, and he had thick dark hair, not long, but not too short, flicking damply down into his face. She swallowed.

"Well..." She said, trying not to leer at him. He was... wow. '_Eyes up, Amy' _She reminded herself. "No, I can manage." She said, rubbing it into her back to prove a point. She didn't want male attention right now, she told herself, it's far too soon, and it's disrespectful.

"Okay then," He said with a grin. "See you around..." He trailed off, waiting expectantly.

"Amy." She finished for him. Surely there was no harm in giving him her name, right?

"See you around, Amy." He concluded. With another grin he turned round and walked off further up the beach. Sure, she didn't want any form of _anything_ like that right now, probably wouldn't for a while, she suspected, but there was no harm in watching him walk away; after all, he did have a very nice...

She settled back down in the sand and let Space Florida's automatic sand do its job.

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Did you guys hear that David got engaged to his daughter? I'm happy for him and all, but it does mean he is now officially off the market. There's still hope for us in Matt though. And when I say US, I mean me. MINE! I BAGSIED HIM!


	11. Chapter 11

Amy had been planning on swimming that day, but when she finally opened her eyes, several hours after she first lay down, she found that the sky had darkened and the beach was almost empty. She hadn't noticed the time pass by, hadn't noticed the people on the beach, hadn't had a care in the world; it was the most at peace she had ever felt in her whole life.

She sat up with a contented sigh and looked around. Some people were still on the beach, she could count four by eye, but they were couples, cuddling and cosy, making the most of the romantic resort. She sighed again, less contentedly, and stood up, slightly dizzy, and brushed herself down. She was covered in sand, who knows what state her hair was in right now, it would be hell to wash out.

After a few seconds she heard past the waves of the ocean and heard people, noisy people, happy people. She turned round and looked up the bay, seeing lights and movement. It was in walking distance, and although she felt she should probably go back to her room, to be a girl in mourning again, curiosity got the better of her – as it often did.

The destination was in easy walking distance, and within five minutes she found herself in what appeared to be a small party district. She could see pubs, clubs and bars, all along one promenade, with no other apparent commercial options. She smiled to herself, feeling like a teenager again.

As a Scottish girl with a long lost imaginary friend, Amy hadn't had much of a social life as a teenager. Sure, she had had Rory, but that was all; he was her only friend, and he never went for the clubbing scene. But she had seen it, on television, the lives of _conventional _teenagers, who went on holiday with their friends, who had fun, and danced, and drank, and did everything that she never had the chance to. Rory had never understood, everything he had ever wanted was right there in that village, he had always told her, they never needed anything outside of it. He had wanted a quiet life, she had always wanted to go out and see the stars, from a very young age.

And here she was, sans Rory, on holiday with a friend, with her pick of clubs and bars to choose from. She swallowed, despising herself for the way she was thinking of Rory, the strong feeling of guilt that was accompanying the sense of...

She pushed it away, and squared her jaw. "I can do this." She said to herself. "I am Amy Pond, and I can do this." She nodded to herself, confidant, and chose a door at random, the nearest to hand, and went inside.

* * *

Did I mention recently how much I love all you guys? No? LAAAAAVE YOU!


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor returned from yet another boring day out. Beach, suns, sand, waves, people, BORING. There was a specific reason why he liked company, why he would find companions, friends, to travel with him, why he liked to see the universe with two sets of eyes, and it was only partly to do with loneliness. So when he brought his friend to a place that he knew she'd love, that she would enjoy, and she spent her time locked up in her room; well, that was _infuriating._

He found himself outside her room again. He rapped on the door and pressed his ear to the frame nosily. It was quiet in there, was she asleep again? "Amy? Are you asleep?" He called. "Not that you'd answer if you were asleep," he continued. "Unless you were sleep talking. Although, the Xellot species, way out on the Buyan nebula, they talk in their sleep all the time, in fact, they never stop sleep talking, really. It's sad, but makes for _very _entertaining conversations."

Still silence. It was too silent; even too silent for sleeping. The Doctor, he had great hearing, fantastic hearing, when he tried, and he could hear breathing through walls - when he tried. But right now, complete silence, nothing above the almost silent hum of the air conditioner. He sighed, and looked up and down the corridor – all clear. He tried to stop the worst from entering his mind, the worst possible scenario, that Amy could, Amy might, so overcome with grief...

"Stop it, just STOP IT!" He told himself, slapping his hand to stop it from shaking. Finally he managed to press down on the button of the sonic, quickly unlocking the door. He pushed it open, and it swung wide, showing him the empty room.

Empty? He stepped into the warm room, looking around. The bed was empty, but clearly slept in. The window was ajar, curtains fluttering in the wind. The bathroom door was shut, but when he opened it, it too was empty.

He was shocked. Looking out through the open window he had a clear view to the beach, to the ocean. It had worked. It had finally worked. The automatic sands of Space Florida had lured her out. He smiled happily, leaning out of the window, inhaling the sweet smell of the ocean. Amy was out, and it was time to find her.


	13. Chapter 13

The bar was nice, on the inside, nice enough anyway. Traditional. It was small, with a few tables and chairs scattered around, booths at the edges of the room, and tall bar stools surrounding a circular central bar. It had a strong colour theme of royal blue and silver – she approved.

With her head held high she walked over and sat on one of the bar stools, examining the menu before her; not the items on it just yet. It was comprised physically of a simple fragile frame, a material that felt like card but more... plastic? Then within the frame was what she could only assume to be a hologram; see through and digital. She prodded it with her finger, and it zoomed in, giving her information on a drink that she had inadvertently selected. A banana daiquiri, claiming to have originated in France during the 1700's at a ball.

She checked in her bag, thankful to see that the TARDIS had provided for her once again. She pulled out a purse and extracted something not dissimilar to a USB stick. She looked at it, frowning.

"How can I help you?" Asked the bartender, a tall man that she hadn't noticed approach.

"Um..." She pondered, trying to go back to the original menu again but failing. She held up the metal stick. "Is this money?" She asked.

"Money?" He asked with a pleasant laugh, though a little condescending. "No-ones had money in years."

"Really? Alright..." She said, looking at the stick with curiosity.

"We use Credits now." He explained. "On the pen, there." He gestured towards the metal stick in her hand.

"Oh." She said. "Right. One... banana daiquiri, I guess." She told him, handing over the stick, which he held under the desk for a second before handing it back to her with no apparent issue. A few seconds later, a tall glass with a thick, yellow liquid inside materialised on the bar in front of her. She looked at it, examining it, before gently tapping it with her finger, testing its solidity, satisfied, she picked up the glass. Looking up to the bartender, she peered at his name badge.

"Brint, yeah?" She asked, and he nodded. "Here's to you, Brint." She said, taking a large sip of the drink, placing down the menu, and somehow knocking it back to the full menu. She looked down and smiled. "I think I'll have the Velvet Asphalt next, please."

She looked up as she heard the barstool beside her being taken.


	14. Chapter 14

Amy smiled with caution as the handsome man from the beach sat down on the barstool next to her.

"Fancy meeting you here." He said with a warm smile.

"Small world." She said, taking a sip of her drink and looking away.

"That it is." He agreed. He checked the menu before looking to Brint. "I'll have what she's having." He instructed, handing over a pen almost identical to Amy's. It materialised in front of him. "Are you enjoying your holiday, then?"

"Yeah..." She pondered what to tell him; best not to go into too much detail, he didn't need to know about spending three days locked in her room. "It's alright. Nice sand. I like the sand."

"Who doesn't?" He told her. Holding up his glass, he motioned for her to clink it with his. She did so. "To the sand." He said with a chuckle, and she smiled.

"To the Sand." She agreed. She took a sip of her drink, and he did the same.

"Where are you from, Amy?" He asked. "Where's home?"

"Oh, far away, very far away." She told him vaguely.

"What's the accent?" He asked abruptly.

"You ask a lot of questions for a man who hasn't even told me his name." She retorted.

"Sinden." He told her, extending a hand for her to shake. She took it politely, pleasantly surprised that this Earth tradition had held on for all this time. "I'm Sinden."

"Nice to meet you, Sinden." She said, taking a sip of her drink. "The accent is Scottish."

"You're from Scotland?" He said in surprise. "I've never met anyone from there."

"Really?" She asked. "Where are you from?"

"Isle of White." He told her. "Just off of the Mirelinum belt."

"Of course." She replied, nodding and pretending to know exactly where he was talking about. She finished her drink and ordered another.

* * *

Guess who's really beginning to enjoy writing this fan fic? I think you guys might like the next chapter, twas a hell of a lot of fun to write - and imagine.


	15. Chapter 15

A few drinks in, Amy could feel her head beginning to spin, and chuckled.

"I haven't drunk in so long." She told Sinden.

"Oh really?" He asked, watching her in amusement as she studied the glass, picking it up and peering into it with curiosity.

"Alcohol, anyway." She looked up suddenly. "This is alcohol, right? It's not something weird and... spacey, is it?"

"Nope," He reassured her. "Good, old fashioned, Earth alcohol. That drink you have contains a large amount of vodka, if you know what that is."

"Oh, believe me, I know." She chuckled, downing the smooth purple liquid. "Can I have... that one?" She said, pointing at a random drink on the menu without paying much attention. She slid the pen back over to Brint, who charged her accordingly.

"So you know your alcohol?" He asked as he watched her taking a sip of the electric blue drink now placed in front of her. "Have you studied it?"

"Oh, you could say that." She told him, thinking of her teenage years. "Not that Rory ever liked it."

"Rory?" He asked.

"My... ex. We would sneak drinks from my Aunt's liquor cabinet and drink it out in the shed." She told him, her words slurring together. "He never liked it, though. Said we could have fun without it. _God_ he was boring!" She finished, and downed the drink.

"Shed?" Sinden asked. "I haven't heard of anyone having a shed in centuries!" He said with a laugh. "You're a strange girl, Amy."

"It's not fair to call him boring, though." She backpedalled, "He just liked things simple, you know?" She stirred her drink with her straw, feeling guilty.

"Did you love him?" Sinden asked her abruptly, and she blinked. He waited patiently for an answer.

"He was my best friend." Amy said, trying to summon up an explanation. "He was always there for me," She told him. "When others weren't."

"That's all very well and good," Sinden replied, "But there needs to be more than that to make a relationship work. If you didn't-"

"Of course I loved him." She snapped, feeling guilty. '_Not in the right way, though'_ the little voice in her head added silently. "Doesn't matter anyway, it's over. He's gone." She took a big gulp of her drink, draining it.

"Another drink for the lady," Sinden instructed Brint. "How about... A Boynton Mojito?"

* * *

Kids, don't drink, and say NO to drugs. Okay?

Can anyone tell me how far I can go before I hit the 'M' rating mark? Just wondering? Don't read too much into this, cos, you know, _spoilers..._


	16. Chapter 16

The Doctor left the room quickly, taking care to leave it as he had left it. He went back into the hallway, locking the door behind him with the sonic, and strode down the corridor, a spring in his step – quite literally, once every few steps. He was jubilant! Amy was out of the room, a _huge_ step forward! When Amy was sad, he was, and when Amy was happy, pretty much nothing in the world could bring him down. Out of everything in the entire universe, his favourite sight was her smile; her beautiful smile.

He banished such thoughts from his mind. Amy was a friend, nothing more.

The lift stopped in the foyer and he skipped out, once again rejecting the offer of a lei. The staff sure were persistent in trying to offer people those things. He walked past, shaking his head with a smile to the scantily dressed woman, before doubling back. "Have you seen my friend?" He asked quickly. "Red hair, about this tall?" He asked, holding his hand around the middle of his forehead.

"I think so," The woman said pleasantly. "Early afternoon, perhaps. I haven't seen her since."

"Any idea where she was going?" He asked hopefully, but she shook her head. "Thanks." He said, dashing off quickly, hopeful and happy that Amy was outside.

He stepped onto the sand outside the doors happily, picturing Amy walking where he was standing right now. What would she have worn? Something short, knowing her. He snapped himself out of it; that was a dangerous area.

He ran over to the beach, skidding slightly in his shoes, finding himself tripping in the motion of the sand, and feeling some grains slip down his clothes. Looking around the beach, he couldn't see her immediately anywhere, and the gradual darkness that was descending on the beach wasn't helping. He could barely see where the waves began. "Amy?" He called, but receiving nothing in return he moved on.

He sighed in frustration and put his hands on his hips, looking round. That was when the bright lights of the commercial district caught his eye, the lit up bars, the noisy people, the thump of music. Not the Doctor's cup of tea, really, but he took his chances, heading up the beach, trying to keep his footing as the sand kept trying to trip him.

He was relieved when he finally reached his destination, and the sand was sparser; the amount of sand that had worked its way into his footwear by now was astonishing. He took both shoes off, knocked the sand out of them, and slid them back on.

Looking round, he had no idea where to start. Which one would Amy have gone into? He actually had no idea... And the Doctor had very little idea what the difference was between each venue. He shrugged, and went up to a bouncer, who looked at him sternly.

"Hello there!" The Doctor said. "I'm looking for my friend."

"Uhuh." The bulky man replied gruffly.

"Red hair, a little shorter than me, answers to the name of Amy?" He asked, staring intensely into the bouncers eyes for any sign of recognition, making the man feel somewhat uncomfortable.

"I see thousands of people walk by every night, I'll need a little more information." He told him.

"Oh, I know!" The Doctor cried, taking out his psychic paper and showing it to the man. "There she is."

"Nice." The bouncer said, somewhat unprofessionally. The Doctor scowled slightly. "You carry a drawing of her round with you?" The Doctor glanced at it, seeing a perfect sketch of his friend.

"Not usually, just visited the caricature booth on the pier." The Doctor fibbed.

"They have that?"

"Tuppence a drawing." He told him with a grin, only to have a blank expression in return. "Have you seen her or not?"

"Saw someone that coulda been her," The bouncer told him. "Went into that bar over there." He pointed to the small building opposite. He turned his attention to two blonde women who were entering the club. "Ladies." He nodded.

"Thanks." The Doctor said, turning round and walking over to the building. He pushed open the door expectantly, smiling at the familiar colour of the interior, a smile that faded as soon as he caught sight of Amy.

* * *

Warning: I LOVED writing the next chapter, but some of you might find it distressing. Buckle yourselves in, whovians.

Also, I have the best poster ever - The one by Van Gogh in the finale of series 5. It's actually so beautiful.


	17. Chapter 17

The Doctor stood in the doorway of the bar, his hand holding open the door. He knew he should leave, he shouldn't stand and stare, for a number of reasons, but yet he stayed, frozen to the spot, his good mood vanished.

He knew he shouldn't care, either, he knew that this should mean nothing to him. When this sort of situation had happened in the past he had forced himself to accept it, and learn not to care, to let his friends carry on. This was the one factor of life that he had denied himself a part of for such a long time.

So why now? Why did it hurt so much to see Amy like this, lips locked with another man?

He could feel the jealousy pumping through him, the hurt, the sadness, but he knew he would do nothing about it. He never would, because he would not, _could not_ offer anything better in return.

As he turned to leave, Amy's eyes opened and looked directly at him. She pulled herself away from the man as the Doctor quickly ran out of the door and into the promenade outside. He didn't go far though, pacing up to the end of the building, and back a few feet, back and forth, not capable of doing anything more than pacing.

"You alright, mate?" The Bouncer called from across the walk, and the Doctor waved him away. Running his shaking palm across his face and back through his hair he sighed sadly.

The door from the bar swung open, and Amy stumbled out, closely followed by the man.

"Doctor?" She slurred, "What... what are you doing here?"

"Nothing!" He spat out. "Just looking for you. You went out."

"Yeah, I did." She said, almost falling over in the process. He went to catch her, but the man caught her first, steadying her before extending a hand towards the Doctor.

"I'm Sinden." He said.

"I'm the Doctor." He said, with a lot more venom than he had meant. "A _pleasure_ to meet you."

"Are you alright, Doctor?" Amy asked, noticing his displeasure even in her drunken haze.

"Fine, never better, why wouldn't I be?" He retorted.

"Why don't you tell me?" She shook off Sinden and walked up to the Doctor, struggling to maintain her balance and dignity. She reached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

Sinden bristled, clearly jealous. "Am I intruding on something?"

"No." Both Amy and the Doctor answered simultaneously, yet both too serious to laugh.

"You wanted me out of the room, so I got out of the room!" Amy cried. "You got what you wanted."

"This wasn't what I wanted!" The Doctor blurted out.

"What did you want?"

"Not for you to get drunk and snog some idiot you met in a bar!" He cried, shaking her off his shoulder.

"Oy!" Sinden yelled out, only to be ignored.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to be getting it from anywhere else, is it?" Amy replied, flapping her arms in the air in annoyance.

"What's that meant to mean?" The Doctor asked, but Amy stayed silent, knowing, even while drunk, some things should remain unsaid. "What about Rory, Amy? What about him?"

"He's dead, Doctor!" She yelled, tears in her eyes. "He's dead, and more than that, he never existed! You expect me to mope about forever?"

The Doctor sighed, realising her point was fair. He thought that it was bad for him, that he faced death daily, that everyone he ever cared about had been taken from him in one way or the other, but he sometimes forgot that humans lose loved ones as well, and they too must move on. But why move on with _that _guy? Was he even attractive? From the Doctor's limited experience, he would have to say... probably not. He realised he was staring, and turned away.

"Why do you even care about Rory, Doctor?" Amy asked.

"Of course I care!" He snapped.

"Then why did you let him _die_?" She yelled. He turned to look at her, seeing the hurt in her face, the tears, the anger. He fought to keep his face blank.

"What?" He asked, keeping his voice level.

"You could've stopped it, Doctor; you could have at least pulled him out. You _LET _him die!"

"I didn't," he told her, his struggle for composure failing. "I couldn't, I couldn't save him!"

"You didn't even try!" She yelled. "You pulled me away from him and left him!"

The Doctor stepped away from her, breathing heavily from the shock of Amy's fury. Was this what she really thought? Had she been harbouring all this rage, this accusation towards him since she remembered? Perhaps it had even been there, simmering beneath the surface, since his death? He stood there, unsure of what to do, and Amy stood too, steady as a rock, holding her ground.

But what he didn't know was that she was suddenly afraid, not just of the Doctor, though she knew that being on the wrong side of him was a very dangerous place to be, and not just fear for her future, fear that he would leave her here, or worse, take her home. No, she was afraid of herself; she hadn't realised she had felt that at all, she hadn't noticed these feelings inside of her, these suspicions. But now, as she looked at him, saw not only anger in his face, but true sadness, she knew it wasn't true, she knew in her heart that it wasn't true. She trusted him implicitly, he had never let her down, he would never, _ever_ do anything to hurt her if he could help it. Yet here she was, breaking his hearts. She could see it.

"I'm sorry." She told him, more sober than she had been. "I didn't mean it."

The Doctor turned his back and began to walk away.

"I'm sorry..." She said quietly, feeling helpless, feeling disgusting.

Sinden came up behind her, putting his arm around her waist. "Wow..."

She shrugged away, grimacing at him. "No." She told him simply, shaking her head. She looked back for the Doctor, but couldn't see him, lost in the darkness beyond the promenade district. She began to run after him, stumbling, her balance not yet regained.


	18. Chapter 18

"Doctor?" She called into the darkness of the unlit space Floridian night. "Doctor!" She called again, but received no response.

* * *

The Doctor speed walked back to the hotel, feeling sick to his stomach.

Did Amy _really_ think that? Did she blame him for Rory's death?

It hadn't been something he had allowed himself to think about. He had, in the old days, when he had lost friends before; he had thought about it until he drove himself mad with grief. But in the past few centuries? No, he had cut the thoughts out, the only thing ever really driving home being the death of his planet, his race. Rory had been easy enough to forget... Amy never brought him up, of course, and the very non-existence of his existence made things simple.

But Rory had died. Not been lost, not left, not been tucked away safe in some corner of universe – before he had been erased from time and space, he had died. And the Doctor _knew _that he could have prevented that; if he had acted faster, not let dumb curiosity take the better of him, Rory would be alive, and Amy would be happy.

"Doctor!" Amy yelled again, but still no reply. Her footing uneven, she continued walking into the night, hoping that the path she had taken was the correct path, the path that would lead her back to the hotel, to the Doctor.

She felt awful. She felt terrible. The things that she had said had been unfair and uncalled for, being drunk had been no excuse. Being in mourning had been no excuse. The things she had said hurt the Doctor, she could see it in her eyes. She needed to be more mature, she needed to be an adult. She felt sick to her stomach.

No, she _really _felt sick to her stomach. Hunching over a shrub at the edge of the dark path she was on, she threw up the Banana Daiquiri, the vicious Boynton Mojito, and whatever else she had left in there.

The Doctor reached the TARDIS. He stepped inside thankfully, pushing the doors shut behind him.

Stepping up to the console, he sat down on the sofa and placed his head in his hands and sighed.


	19. Chapter 19

Amy awoke with a groan, her head thumping horrifically as the morning sun shone in her eyes. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillows.

"Gnuuuuhhhhh..." She moaned to the world.

She winced as she peeled an eye open, the room dulled by the curtains being too bright for her. She winced as she picked out her phone from the bag which was helpfully positioned below her bedside table, and checked the time.

It was half three in the afternoon. Half three?

Sitting upright, she tried to force herself out of bed. It didn't work. Her head spun and she could've sworn she could feel her brain rattling around within her skull. But she needed to get up, the sudden lurching caused her stomach to panic, and she made a dash for the bathroom, ignoring the pain in her head.

After she had thrown up anything that had been left from the night before, she flushed the toilet, wincing again at the roar of the toilet – a noise that may have been far quieter than those at home, was still far too noisy for her delicate head.

She heard a knocking at the door, and after whinging profusely to herself, she finally braved the pain and stood up, cradling her head as she moved to the door, opening it as softly as possible.

"Hello?" She whimpered to the scantily clad member of staff.

"Hi there, Miss Pond." The woman whispered back. "Room service."

"I didn't order anything." She told the woman, shaking her head at the thought of food.

"It was from your friend," She replied. "He said to give this to you as soon as you're awake."

"Right..." Amy said, shakily taking the tray from the member of staff, glaring at the glass of water and a small white pill on a plate. She suddenly had a thought. "You can tell when I'm awake?"

"Well," The woman answered hesitantly. "We don't usually make use of the system, only in special cases, but with a high profile customer..." She winked. "such as your friend, we make allowances."

The Doctor must have used the psychic paper.

"Thanks, then." Amy told her, gently shutting the door as the woman walked away. She sat back down on the bed, placing her chin on her knees, and took a sip of the water. It was delicious, quenching the thirst that she hadn't quite realised she had had, but was very much aware of it now. It was better than anything back on earth – as a hung-over teenager, Amy could drink a litre of water and still not feel much better.

She looked at the pill, wondering what it was. Did it fix hangovers? She desperately hoped so, but something inside her warned her that this morning the Doctor was not to be trusted... though she had no idea why. She tried to trace her memory back to the night before, to dust off the memories that were somehow evading her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus, and suddenly regained a flash of it. The Doctor's face, crestfallen, upset, hurt.

She _HATED _not being able to remember, an all too painful throwback to Rory...

Oh. _OH!_

"_Then why did you let him die?" She yelled. He turned to look at her, seeing the hurt in her face, the tears, the anger. He fought to keep his face blank._

"_What?" He asked, keeping his voice level._

"_You could've stopped it, Doctor; you could have at least pulled him out. You LET him die!"_

"_I didn't," he told her, his struggle for composure failing. "I couldn't, I couldn't save him!"_

"_You didn't even try!" She yelled. "You pulled me away from him and left him!"_

She winced as she replayed her words, harsher now in the light of day than they had been in her drunken haze. She had been awful, she had forgotten everything she had ever known about the Doctor, forgotten all her trust in him, for all of thirty seconds, and perhaps permanently damaged her relationship with the Doctor.

She trusted him implicitly, of course she did.

With a slightly shaky hand, she reached down and plucked the white pill off of the tray, placing it in her mouth and swallowed it with a swig of the water. She smiled as she felt the thumping in her head slowly wash away and her churning stomach cool down. She even smiled into the sunlight.

She should never doubt the Doctor. Ever.

* * *

Say no to alcohol, kids, we haven't got those hangover pills yet.


	20. Chapter 20

Amy smiled, her morning hangover all but gone. She looked out of the window and out at the sea, maybe she would actually get to the water today. She got into another bathing suit that she found in her suitcase, and tying the sarong around her waist, she left the room with the small bag that she had brought with her the day before. She walked down the hallway, in the lift, and soon found herself back in the foyer. She was planning on walking straight through, walking through the crowd of people that were crowding and queuing in the usually quiet foyer, but hadn't been expecting to find someone waiting for her.

"Doctor?" She said, walking gingerly over to him, unsure of how he would react after last night.

"Good morning." He greeted her, a little too quickly, and avoided eye contact. He moved to the counter, politely joining the queue.

"It's nearly four." She reminded him, attempting to playfully elbow him, but it turned into an awkward nudge, contact that he shied away from.

"It's morning somewhere." He told her.

"Of course." She said. The awkward silence continued, and she twiddled her thumbs are she waited, pursing her lips in boredom. She tried to ignore the awkwardness, talking seemed appropriate. "Why are we queuing?"

"There's a convention on," The Doctor told her. "Some sort of sporty thingy. They need the rooms, so we're leaving."

"Right." Said Amy, looking down at her flip-flop clad feet. "I don't have my stuff; my clothes, my case. Should I go get it?" They were interrupted as the person in front of them moved away, and it was their turn at the counter.

"We'd like to check out, please!" The Doctor said, all too chirpily. He handed over the room keys.

"Of course, Sir, Madam," Said the receptionist, pressing buttons on a computer hidden below the desk. Amy's bag appeared on the counter, and she raised an eyebrow. "Complimentary." She explained. "I hope you enjoyed your stay!" The woman finished off with a bright smile, and the Doctor stalked off silently.

"Oh, it was illuminating." Amy told her sarcastically, before running off to catch up with the Doctor, her long legs equal to hers, though her shoes being far more impractical than his. "Doctor!" She called. He didn't look round, but she caught up with him quickly. "Doctor?" She tried again, and again he ignored her, continuing to walk and look steadfastly on, heading for the sandy parking lot where the TARDIS was. "OY!" She yelled, swatting his shoulder with her hand.

"What?" He said finally, stopping to look at her.

"We aren't leaving because of the convention." She told him. He went back to walking, and again she fought to keep up with him. "Is this because of last night?" He remained silent. "I didn't mean it."

"Didn't you?" Asked the Doctor, slowing down to look at her again. "Because, Amy, alcohol has the effect of lowering your inhibitions, making you act how you actually want to act. If you said it, you thought it."

"But I didn't know I thought it!" She tried to explain, dropping her bag in the sand now that they had reached the TARDIS. "And I don't think it now!"

The Doctor tried to push the door of the blue box open, but it stuck. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he placed it in the lock and tried to turn it. It didn't open.

"Doctor!" She yelled, annoyed at being ignored. "Are you listening to me?"

"Busy," he replied. He leaned in to the glass, trying to peer through the frosted windows. Taking his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, he tried to open it that way, but it still remained closed. "We're locked out."


	21. Chapter 21

The Doctor was annoyed. Peeved. Even a little miffed.

Sure, the current situation meant a subject change, which he was all for. He wasn't quite ready to talk to Amy about the night before, and even though he hated himself a little bit for it, he was choosing the cowardly option anyway. He knew that talking about it would be really, _really_ hard, and that the man that she had been with would be brought up, which was a subject he wanted to steer clear of altogether.

So even though the locked door meant a subject change, he was still annoyed. Once the initial reaction of the inoperative TARDIS wore off, it meant that there would be very little distractions, leaving only awkwardness in its wake. Awkwardness that would simply stay there until it was fixed.

How did he know? Because the TARDIS was telling him, the TARDIS was taking a stand, the TARDIS was using her brain.

They weren't getting back in until they had sorted out their problems.

The Doctor kicked the door in annoyance. Having a sentient ship really sucked sometimes.

"Locked out?" Amy asked. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"She's just being a nuisance." The Doctor said, his jaw locked in frustration.

"Is there a reason?" Amy asked, looking worriedly to the Doctor.

"She's..." The Doctor tried to think, not willing to give the real answer. "She's recalibrating. She does it at the most _annoying_ times!"

"Well," Begun Amy. "It's not like we're running from aliens, is it?" She joked, then suddenly turning serious. "Is it? We're not leaving because we're running from aliens."

"Since when do we run from aliens?" He asked.

"When don't we?" She retorted, crossing her arms. Sometimes the Doctor could be completely oblivious to how he acted, like now, for instance. "So what now?"

The Doctor sighed, and turned around, looking back to the hotel. "We go back."

"Great!" Amy cried, trying to include as much enthusiasm as possible into her speech, hiding her frustration. "I can go swimming."

"You didn't go swimming yesterday?" The Doctor asked, as they began walking back to the hotel. "You spent all day in the bar with your friend?"

"No," Amy told him. "I spent the day at the beach; I just didn't get past the sand."

"Of course," The Doctor appreciated, smiling at the thought, and stifling a mental image of Amy enjoying the sand. "Great sand, fantastic sand, completely natural sand. That's why they made this resort; it's practically a spa, an all natural spa."

"Right..." Said Amy, looking up as they approached the hotel, meters away from the doors. "And that lasts, does it?"

"Well, not exactly," The Doctor tells her. "You see, when taken off the planet, the sand stops working, it's just sand. So humans decide to move there, in their billions, until all the room is taken up, all the sand is covered by buildings, and all the buildings are owned by the rich and powerful. Sad day."

"You've seen its future?" Amy asked. "You've been here before?"

"I've seen most things, Amy." He told her sadly as they walked through the doors of the foyer and joined the back of the queue. "When you've been around as long as I have, you've been almost everywhere."

"Really?" Amy asked in surprise. "I mean, I know you're old, like, really old, but isn't the Universe huge? Really, _really _big, and all that?"

"Nine hundred years is a long time." He told her. "I look at a star and it's just a big ball of burning gas, and I know how it began and I know how it ended. I was probably there both times."

"Wow..." Amy exhaled, standing on her tip toes to peer over the heads of the people in the queue, trying to gauge how long they would have to wait. "Cheery one, you are."

He looked at her and smiled, a real smile, one he hadn't given her in a while. Amy was returning, the real Amy, the Amy who could shake off the bad things that had happened. It wasn't perfect, they wouldn't be for a while, but they'd get there.

"Doctor," Amy begun. "We should talk about last night."

"You know where we should go?" The Doctor interrupted, taking a step forward as the queue shifted. "Barcelona, you'd love it there. They have mountains that sway in the breeze! Can you imagine? Actual mountains that sway."

"Doctor-"

"And the Dogs! You'd love the dogs, they have no noses! It's rude to laugh, of course. They take it very personally."

"Doctor!" She yelled, stopping his rambling. "We need to talk." She said more quietly, aware of people turning to look at her.

"Not right now." He told her, stalling. '_Coward'_, he told himself. Sometimes he took pride in being a coward; right now he just felt ashamed. Amy looked at him, frustrated, and rolled her eyes. Looking straight ahead she set her jaw and did her best to cross her arm whilst still carrying her case.

"Barcelona, then?" She asked.

"As soon as we get the TARDIS working." He reassured her.

"You're not sending me home, then?" She asked, voicing her fears aloud. Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, but she swallowed it down.

The Doctor turned to look at her, his brow slightly furrowed. He analysed her, her stance, her too-shiny eyes. Placing a hand on her shoulder he turned her to look at him. "No. I would never..." He trailed off, somehow unable to consider it. Travelling without her, _living _without her, it seemed so impossible. "You aren't going home until you want to go."

"Well," She said, forcing a smile onto her face. "That's not happening any time soon."

"Next!" They heard the woman on reception call, and after a second they broke eye contact and moved forward to the desk. "How may I help you today?"

"We'd like to check in, please." The Doctor announced happily.

"Unfortunately, sir, we just hired out our last room." A chorus of groans were heard behind them. "It's a busy weekend sir, a conference is-"

"Yes, I know." He interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can you check if there are any rooms available in nearby hotels?" He slipped the psychic paper out of his jacket pocket and showed it to the woman. Her demeanour changed immediately.

"Actually, Sir." She said. "We do have one room left. Only one though."

"We'll take it." Amy told her quickly.

"Very well." The woman said brightly as she typed it in, and handing them their keys. "The honeymoon suite, top floor. Would you like me to take your bags?"

"Please." Amy told her, handing them over. She turned to look at the Doctor, only to find him inexplicably vanished. "Did you see where he went?"

The woman looked up in slight confusion. "No, madam."

The bag dematerialised from the counter as Amy stepped away, allowing frustrated prospective customers to take her place. Looking round, she couldn't see the Doctor anywhere.

* * *

Right, you lot. I've gotten a couple of reviews saying to make the chapters longer, and now I am holding a poll. Who likes the shorter chapters, meaning mainly consistant publishing (I am a busy girl you know, especially now that lectures have started again), or longer chapters meaning you might not get another chapter as quickly?

I try to end my chapters where it feels natural, occasionally I don't know where to end a chapter and I think it shows, but it doesn't happen too often. If you get a chapter which is 5000 words long, that will have happened. Also, it doesn't help that I tend to be at my most creative at three in the morning, so I write, email to my proofer, then post in the morning after she edits out the sleepyness. I should probably work on that.

This one today is over a thousand words because I shoved two chapters together, as the original ch.22 was about 100 words long... So there you go, my lovelies, one really long chapter.

-Also, I've been watching through Doctor who with my flatmate, who's a Doctor Who Virgin. Yesterday we finally got to the end of series 4- watching Donna's death and David's in the same day. It broke my heart. So this evening we are storming through as much of series 5 as we can, to cheer me up. THE DOCTOR IS STILL ALIVE! Also, now I can get back into 11/Amy mindset, it's been difficult to write while watching 9 and 10, feel like I might've been writing their characters too much into 11's.

So, long or short chapters. Decide, my darlings.


	22. Chapter 22

Amy left the foyer, sliding in her unhelpful flip flops on the marble-esque floor; surely a beach resort would be catered for flip flops. The sand provided much more purchase, but she ignored it.

"Doctor!" She yelled out, also ignoring people who turned round to stare at her. "Doctor!"

There was no reply.

But Amy wasn't going to give up. She had never been one for keeping her mouth shut when something was bothering her, she was always the loud, Scottish red haired girl, teased mercilessly at school and had to learn how to defend herself. But then the Doctor came back, he stole her away from her dreary life and showed her things that had been beyond even her imagination, the girl with the crack of time and space in her room; she couldn't risk angering him, she couldn't risk that he'd send her home. So she stayed quiet.

But not anymore; things had changed. She wasn't going to be the girl who waited any longer, she was the girl who followed, she always followed the Doctor, and she was going to sit him down and make him **TALK**.

The Doctor speed walked out of the foyer and round the corner of the hotel before Amy could see him leave.

Oh, he was such a chicken! He could stare down Dalek's, Cybermen, Slitheen and countless other monsters in the universe... but talk to a girl? About real issues? Never. What was it that Donna had said once? _"You talk and talk, but you never say anything."_

Something like that. That was the way he liked it; make friends but keep them at arms distance. Of course, it didn't often work, they'd worm their way through, the scrappy little humans, find their way into his heart. More often than not, they did. And that's what made it hurt all the more when they inevitably had to leave.

Even so... Amy deserved an answer, an explanation, for what happened. He just needed to work it out for himself first. It was like he had been working on auto pilot; his primary concern being to keep Amy safe, and damn all the rest. It was a habit he always worked himself into with those closest to him, and it always had a habit of turning out badly.

"Doctor!" He heard her call. "Doctor!" She repeated. She was looking for him, of course she would be. He had simply vanished from her side like the chicken he was.

He held his breath as the listened to her, focused on her, on her breathing, her heartbeat, the blink of the eyelids. Finally he heard her move, walking straight ahead instead of round the building towards him. He breathed a sigh of relief, and carried on around the back of the building to where he had found a delightful little non-indigenous plant growing the day before. He could think back there.


	23. Chapter 23

Amy was bored. After making the decision to follow and find the Doctor, and quickly getting absolutely nowhere, she realised just how boring the island was. As a resort for couples, the island was catered for people looking to spend 'quality time' together, but seeing as her one friend left in the universe had decidedly vanished on her, she couldn't do that. She could've gone to some bars, a club, maybe, but knew that it would be very unlikely to find the Doctor there; plus, after the disaster that was the night before, she decided that perhaps it would be best to stay away from that district.

The problem was, Amy had gotten used to a certain way of living since being with the Doctor. It was either running from aliens, fighting aliens, a constant adrenalin rush, or occasional peaceful trips. Both of these usually involved the Doctor in some way, she was rarely on her own, so being cut off from him, in a planet with very little to do, was boring, like the Doctor had said it was.

After a few hours of pointless searching, she took a break and went to the beach. After simply standing in the sand for a few minutes, she forced herself to move forwards and into the water, to take a swim. She left her sarong and bag hidden by a dune on the sand, praying it wouldn't get swallowed, or whatever it was that the automatic sands did, and stepped into the ocean.

It was deliciously warm, which came as a shock to her. The few beach holidays that she had been on as a child with her aunt had only been to British beaches; cold, uncomfortable British beaches. They had rarely been sandy, and the sea had always been cold, cold enough to run back from the water, even on a deceptively warm day. Those beaches were a far cry from the one she was now standing on now.

She smiled as she walked further into the water, enjoying as the warm liquid rose further up her thighs, over her belly and right up her chest. If the Doctor wanted to play this game, then _fine_, he could go off and do his own thing. She would catch him later.

* * *

The Doctor paced back and forth behind the hotel, pondering the situation. He had a few hours at most to figure out an answer for her, besides the obvious one, of course.

"Not that there is an obvious answer," The Doctor told himself. "Not that one. That one is not obvious. And it's not the explanation either. Shut up."

He pushed the thought out of his mind.

He couldn't have saved Rory. No matter what happened, he would still have died.

Well, that was also a lie. "No, not also. There is no also. To be 'also a lie', there would have to have been a first lie."

Anyway, that was a lie. If the Doctor hadn't chosen to stick his hand in the crack, they would've gotten into the TARDIS in time, and Rory would still be here. But that wasn't a factor in the equation. There was no way he could have prevented it. Full stop.

But... he could've pulled Rory away from the crack, before it spread round him, right? That was the bit that Amy was annoyed about.

He remembered her yelling the night before. Okay, maybe a bit more than _annoyed._

But yes, he could have saved his body, his existence! Amy would've remembered her fiancé. She would've been sad, a situation that upset him too, but she was sad right now anyway. Her sadness was unavoidable.

He huffed in annoyance. It was for situations such as this that he liked to have someone around, to bounce ideas off of, to help him figure out the answer. Of course, he couldn't do that.

He forced himself to consider all possible reasons.

Shock: He could've been too shocked at the turn of events to act in time. A likely possibility... Very rarely did the people he travel with actually die, they would be forced to leave in one way or another, but still alive, usually. To see someone he considered a friend dying... Was hard.

Malice: Had the Doctor held some sort of grudge against Rory, that he would want him erased for? Jealousy? – "NO!" Yelped the Doctor, forcing himself off of that route again. He was not jealous of Rory, not even a little bit. And even if he had been, he wouldn't have hurt him for it. Never. That was a ridiculous solution, and completely untrue.

He hated doing this, he hated second guessing himself, replaying the what if's and never where's of his life. Things happened, and people move on. He forced himself not to think about the exact happenings of Rory's death, instead focusing on the present, on Amy, but right now he looked back.

Closing his eyes, he pushed back into his memories, back and back and back until he hit the scene. He had just been shot. Amy told him to take Rory on the TARDIS, but the Doctor didn't.

"There wasn't time..." He murmured to himself. There hadn't been time. He had known that if he took him onto the TARDIS, he would rob Amy of precious last seconds with him. And by the time Rory had died, the light was already at his feet, consuming him.

There simply hadn't been time. There was no use second guessing himself, there had been no way to predict what would happen, he thought they were safe to wait a minute.

He had made a mistake, and Amy had been hurt, was hurting.

He had to step up and take responsibility, to apologise.

He needed to talk to Amy.

* * *

Another two chapters smushed together. I seem to be writing faster, I'm quite enjoying this part, especially where it's leading to... :D


	24. Chapter 24

Amy had spent the remainder of the afternoon on the beach, alternating between swimming and sunbathing, having given up on trying to find the Doctor. Eventually she tired of this, and sat up.

What to do... she pondered going to a bar, just for a second, but knew that was not a smart idea in the slightest. In the end, she decided to simply go back to the hotel. She hadn't even seen her new room yet; the honeymoon suite, it sounded... nice.

As she made her way back, she tried to work out how she felt about staying in a room that was designed for newlyweds. Considering the plans that had been made for her future, and the things that had happened in the recent past, she guessed that she should have resisted the room; going by a stereotypical view of how newly widowed (and not even that) women act, she shouldn't be enjoying herself at all, let alone intrigued by the prospect of staying in such a room.

Yet she was. The honey moon suite, with the Doctor; now _there_ was a thought. She presumed it only had one bed, a logical assumption, and instead of scaring her, she was a little bit excited. Sharing a bed with the Doctor...

That's if he even came back. Did the Doctor even sleep? He was an alien, after all, he might not need sleep, he might spend his nights tinkering away in the TARDIS, a prospect that wasn't entirely unlikely. She could picture him whiling the night away in one of the rooms in the ship, playing with his screwdriver, while she dreamt. That would probably be what he would do tonight, he would spend the night trying to fix the TARDIS. Somehow she doubted she'd see him at all until they left.

The thought of not seeing the Doctor for that long saddened her; as her only company left in the universe, she relied heavily on him now, even if he didn't know it. She could barely imagine leaving him, it was difficult enough as it was to be near him and not hug him.

She paused as the last thought ran through her head. She hadn't noticed that before, that when she saw him she resisted the urge to hold him, not consciously anyway. But she did, even now in her slight annoyance with him for running off, she still wanted to be close to him, to hold his hand. She replayed a memory of him kissing her forehead, smiling at the thought, imagining his warm lips there now, perhaps even on her own...

She stopped again, shocked. Where were these thoughts coming from? She wasn't attracted to the Doctor, of course she wasn't. She was still hung up on Rory, of course she was.

But... what was it that Rose had said? Rose had noticed something, she said she could see an attraction between them, that they liked each other. At the time Amy had ignored it, her mind still messed up from having a huge chunk of her life missing, but now that the thought had entered her head, it was confusing her.

Of course it had entered her head before; she had tried to kiss him, twice. When she had first kissed him, she hadn't even thought of Rory, all she had wanted was the Doctor. The second time she had kissed him she hadn't even thought of anything, she was in shock, she needed comfort, she had needed the Doctor. Both times he had rejected her, but both times he had kissed her back, just for a second, just for the tiniest bit.

She stepped into the lift from the foyer, slightly surprised as she hadn't noticed entering the building, engrossed in thought as she was. The lift sped up quickly to the top floor, knowing where to take her after reading her key, but she stayed inside the small room.

What about Rory? She had been about to marry him, to supposedly spend the rest of her life with him, before he had died. But she had never been sure, she ran away on the night before her wedding with the Doctor, still unsure then as to what to do. Sure, when he had died while they were dreaming she thought she was sure, she thought she knew what she wanted, but had she been so caught up in the emotional turmoil that she had misread her feelings? Rory was her best friend, the boy who had been there for her when the Doctor had not, but did she love him, love him in the way he had wanted her to?

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She pushed past the sadness, the loss of her best friend, and studied herself, focusing on how she felt, what she felt, what this all meant. She focused until one thought pushed clear through the rest.

_Relief._

Her eyes snapped open in shock. Relief? She was relieved that Rory had died?

Of course not like that, she never wanted him to die, but now that he had, she was free. She _felt_ free! He had been the only thing tying her down to a life at home, in Leadworth. She had seen it the other night, she had felt it, Rory wanted a wife, a mother to his children, that boring, stable life in the dream, but Amy wanted something different. She wanted adventure, she wanted the Doctor.

Opening her eyes, she left the lift, stepping out into the hallway and quickly saw her door, the only door. Apparently the honeymoon suite was also the penthouse suite. She paused before opening the door, unsure. What would she do now? Now that she knew that she wanted something more with the Doctor, how was she meant to go about it? Should she even try? Was that even an option for the Doctor; based on his previous rejections of her, it may well not be.

But was Amy one to ever shy away from a challenge?


	25. Chapter 25

Amy opened the door to the suite and looked around. It was just like a swanky hotel room from Earth; large, comfortable, and with a _huge_ bed on the far side of the room. It looked incredibly comfortable, and she couldn't help but picture the Doctor on it, looking all adorable and swamped by its hugeness.

She smiled slightly as her thoughts turned in another direction, but quickly tried to snap herself out of it. Something was wrong with the room, she could tell, something was gnawing at her... What was it? It hit her soon enough; she had only just entered the room, so why were the lights on?

"Doctor?" She called. "You in here?"

She walked further in to the room, looking around a partition that separated the kitchen from the main living and sleeping area. Moving further round, she finally saw him, the Doctor, leant against the window with his forehead pressed against the window, his face stern. He was looking out to the ocean. Amy felt a slight quiver in her belly, butterflies, as she looked at him, a reaction she had been fairly skilled at ignoring before now; it felt weird to notice it.

Amy walked over to the window and leant her back against it, crossing her arms and looking at him. _God_, he looked gorgeous when he was moody. He finally looked at her, keeping his forehead pressed against the window, but twisting his neck so he looked up at her from under his brow. She smiled.

"You ran off." She told him in a tone that she hoped was accusatory, but may have been a little too much on the soft side.

"Yeah," He said, swallowing. Amy watched his Adams apple bob up and down, fascinated. "Sorry."

He looked sad for some reason, and Amy resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his face. It was hard... he was just standing there looking so adorable, the slightly orange sunslight warming his face. He then straightened up, taking a deep breath, and looking down to her.

"We need to talk." He told her.

"No, really?" She said sarcastically. "That's not what I've been trying to tell you, or anything."

"I got busy!" He told her defensively, removing himself from the window. "I get lots of thoughts in my head, I have to go and sort them out, occasionally."

"Well, yes natural, I think too, sometimes." She told him, repeating his words from months back. She blushed slightly as she remembered what occurred after, embarrassed to be hoping that it would happen again. The Doctor smiled at her words, thankfully not psychic enough to read her thoughts.

"What you said the other night, about Rory..." He begun, looking into her eyes as he did when he was trying to see someone's reaction.

"It doesn't matter." She interrupted, shy under his scrutiny.

"It does, Amy." He told her, looking back out of the window. "You blame me for Rory's death."

"I don't." She told him, taking his hand. He turned to look at her again, his aged eyes sad.

"Then why did you say it?" He asked softly.

"I was upset and drunk." She told him, trying to make him understand. "I wanted to blame _something_, anything!" She looked down at his hand, gently stroking it. "I had just lost my best friend in the worst way possible."

"You lost your fiancé." He corrected her, and she nodded, unsure of what she should tell him. Rory had been her fiancé, but not in her heart.

"I don't blame you." She told him simply, looking back up to his eyes. "I know there was nothing you could have done."

"Do you?" The Doctor said, relieved. He could see the honesty in her face, he could see that she was telling the truth.

The Doctor and Amy were now very close to each other, their bodies inches apart, neither of them wanting to move apart, though both knowing they probably should.

"I didn't want to marry Rory." She told him, and she saw his eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Really?" He asked. "But you were engaged, you were getting married in the morning?"

Amy took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she was about to do. It seemed idyllic; standing so close to him, in a honeymoon suite, with a view overlooking an ocean sunset. "People get engaged all the time, for all sorts of reasons, Doctor." She told him. "Sometimes for the wrong ones."

"Oh..." He said, looking away in thought, seemingly interested in this fact. Amy smiled. "So why did you say yes then?" He asked with curiosity.

She stayed silent for a second, gathering her confidence. It hadn't been this hard last time; she had been panicking, she had been looking for comfort, and the time before that all she had been looking for was one night of passion. This time, she was aiming a lot higher.

"Because I thought you weren't coming back." She whispered, her voice cracking a bit. She saw the Doctor's eyes turn in sympathy, but before he could do anything she took a step towards him and stretched up, placing her lips firmly on his.


	26. Chapter 26

The Doctor's hearts raced as Amy placed her lips firmly onto his, and gently pushed her body against him, moulding herself around him. He could feel her hands leave his to hold the back of his neck, one moving up to his hair, and he could feel his own moving up too, to hold her close, to pull her into him. He could _especially _feel his lips playing with hers, moving with her. He was definitely kissing her back. His hands skimmed up her arms...

And then they hit her shoulders, which he grasped firmly and pushed her back. Each time she did this it became harder and harder to resist her, but resist her he must; she was Amy Pond, his friend, she couldn't be anything more, despite how much he wanted her to be.

"Amy, you have _got_ to stop doing that!" He yelled as he stepped away from her, maintaining a distance that had previously gone awry.

"Why?" She yelled back in annoyance, the angry Scottish girl coming out to play. He probably should've been upset that he'd angered her, but it was good to see the old Amy coming back.

"Because it's wrong! This can't work!" He tried to tell her.

"Oh, come off it Doctor," She scoffed. "You want it too, you were kissing me back."

"I definitely was _not_ kissing you back." He told her huffily. "And even if I was, it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?" She asked. She stepped over and took his hand, and he snatched it back. Why did she keep on making this so hard for him?

"It just wouldn't." He told her, flapping his hands above his head like he was prone to in frustration.

"Oh, thanks for clearing that up." Amy told him, sitting down ungraciously on the bed.

"What about Rory?" He asked her, suddenly remembering a rather large excuse. "You must have felt something for him."

She looked up at him, her eyes still annoyed, though not tinged with the sadness he had been expecting at saying her dead fiancé's name. "He was my best friend, he was there for me when no one else was, he was there for me when you ran off," The Doctor felt a wave of guilt pass over him, calming him down slightly, rationalising him. "And I loved him, but never in the way that he wanted me to."

"Oh..." The Doctor sighed as he wiped his hand down his face, unsure of what to say next, but Amy got there first.

"Have you been in love with someone, Doctor?" Amy asked him, and he looked back to her.

"I'm nine hundred and seven, Amy." He told her by way of explanation.

"So you keep saying, Doctor, but what does that mean?" She asked, folding her arms against her chest and leaning forward.

"I've experienced lots of things, Amy," He told her stiffly. "I had a family, back before the war."

"And anyone else?" She pressed on. "You've travelled with others, have you not felt anything for anyone? What about Rose?"

"Amy..." He sighed again, sitting down on the armchair. "I couldn't be with any of them, even if I wanted to. Not even Rose."

"Do you still love her?" She asked, seeing through his evasions. He was silent for a moment, before shaking his head.

"When I changed, from the man that you saw in Rose's flat to the man that I am now, I lost bits," He tried to explain, his voice gruff. "The old me had feelings for Rose, but now I don't. I left it behind."

"You can do that?" Amy asked, shocked. "You can leave things behind, feelings for people? You just feel nothing for her now?"

"No," he said, leaning back into the chair in defeat as Amy shuffled closer to him. "I still love her a lot, but not in the way I did. I moved on, and the feelings changed into something else. I respect her, I admire her, but I'm not in love with her."

"So you were in love with her?" Amy asked, triumphant that she had coaxed information out of him. "Why didn't you do anything about it?"

"Humans, you grow old, you wither and you die," he told her, repeating what he had told Rose so long ago. "But I don't, I stay as I am, and if I die I just regenerate."

She absorbed the information, her listening face turning into one of incredulity. "Oh, come off it!" She told him. "How long does anyone ever get with you anyway, Doctor?"

"What?" He interrupted, but she continued.

"Has anyone ever stayed long enough to _'wither and die'_? Really? Because it seems to me that all of your friendships have a time limit."

"Is that what you want, Amy?" He asked her. "A relationship with a time limit?"

"All relationships do, though!" She told him. "People will either die of old age or they'll split up, and looking at how marriages end up in my time, it'd probably be the second option."

The Doctor stayed silent, leant backward in his chair with his arms along the arm rests. He simply looked at Amy, studying her. This wasn't like the last times she had kissed him, he realised, there was a lot more to it now. She didn't just want one night, she wanted as long as he could give her, and he did want to give it to her. He knew there were reasons he shouldn't, but the more she talked, the less he could remember them. Amy was washing away his better judgement and he felt like he was clinging to them with his fingertips.

"Why am I here?" Amy asked him, scooting further towards him so that her legs were now off of the bed, her toes brushing the carpet below. "Why did you take me from Leadworth? It's not just that you were lonely, is it?"

The Doctor stayed silent for a few seconds more, before sighing and leaning forward, scratching his fingernails under the arm rests. Eventually he spoke. "Because... I can't see it anymore."

"See what?" Amy asked, her face serious.

"I'm nine hundred and seven years old, after a while you just can't see it."

"See what?" She repeated, moving further forward until her knees were touching the Doctors, and her sarong had ridden quite high up her leg. The Doctor pretended not to notice.

"It's like I said earlier. That star is just a big ball of burning flame. After a while, everything is just stuff; that's the problem, you make all of time and space your back yard, and that's what you're left with: a back yard." He told her with a sigh, finally looking up and meeting her eyes, closer than he had realised. They were wide, they were listening, and they cared. "But you? You can see it."

"And that's the only reason you took me with you?" She asked sadly.

"To start with." He told her, giving in a little.

"And now?" Amy asked, her voice shaking. "Why am I with you now?"

The Doctor didn't answer, but held her eye contact, both of them sharing the same expression: understanding. Amy stood up from the bed, and the Doctor leant back as she stepped towards him. She extended a hand as she looked down at him, gently taking hold of his face, and again with her other hand. She caressed his face, tenderly exploring its planes, before moving back into his hair, and carefully angling his head up to look at her.

"Doctor, you're always so brave, you're always looking for adventure," She told him, watching his face, nervous about what would happen next, fearing the worst. "But you're avoiding something. Just one thing that you won't let yourself explore."

She moved her hands down to take his, and brought him up to stand in front of her, now taller than her by a few inches, enough for her to be looking up through her eyelashes, a sight that the Doctor found himself breath-taken by. "Amy..." He sighed softly, attempting one last protest, but no longer meaning it. Amy stretched up, her lips the tiniest distance from his, barely touching, and waited, her hands still in his. The Doctor waited too, relishing in the few seconds of anticipation that remained, until, finally, he closed the distance, connecting his lips to hers. Slowly they let go of each other's hands, and Amy wound hers up to his neck, stroking it and making him shiver, while his trailed to the small of her back, holding her, and pulling her in, towards him, their bodies pressed together.

Amy took a step backwards, pulling him with her, back to the bed.

* * *

Squee! I had SO much fun writing this chapter.

Now, my lovelies, some of you might be hoping that this turns into smut, but you'll be disappointed. I'm not going to write what immediately follows this, because I dont want to bump this up to an M. A lovely friend of mine (steffiee92) has written a chapter that can be slotted in, but dont feel pressured into reading it and reviewing it :P

Of course, if any of you feel like you want the chapter and stick it up on your profile, I'd be okay with that :D

fanfiction .net/s/6659420/1/the_doctor_and_Amy_secret_chapter


	27. Chapter 27

The activities of the hours before had exhausted The Doctor, so much so that he had actually fallen asleep for an hour or so. He woke in the early hours of the morning with a contented smile on his face, feeling sublimely happy, more so than he had in such a long time. He looked down, seeing a pale arm strewn across his chest, and as he looked to the right he saw her sleeping face beside him, her red hair mussed up and partially obscuring her face. Her lips were slightly swollen and pink, and he could feel his were too. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to wake up to.

He watched her smile in her sleep and slowly realisation dawned on him. Carefully removing her arm from his chest, he got up from the bed, making sure not to wake Amy, and walked over to the window, grabbing a towel and wrapping it round his waist as he moved. Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he alternated his gaze between the beautiful woman in the bed, and the view of dawn out of the window.

He began to worry, now that he had gained some distance from her; it had been difficult to think straight with her arm around him. Last night, they had done more than sleeping together, they had formed a connection; one of the reasons that the Doctor had against sleeping with humans. Time Lords had psychic abilities, a power that the Doctor didn't often like to use, but in times like last night, when a Time Lord sleeps with someone, they create a connection, a link between the two of them.

Its aim was to encourage long term relationships; something to bind them together, but only worked best with another Time Lords. With humans the most that happened would usually be a low level empathic link, occasional feelings of déjà vu, and in times of intense stress or pressure, the ability to just about communicate thoughts to one another.

That was why the Doctor had to get out of the bed, to gain some distance. All of these happy emotions could have been emanating from Amy, beautiful, wonderful Amy, and not been his at all. Well, some might not have been his. Before he had been so adamant that this shouldn't happen, before he forgot himself, his reasoning, before Amy talked him down.

He could still stop what had happened, if he wanted to, if he needed to. He could prevent anything more happening; he could go back to the way things were. He could go back to her, and wipe away the last few hours from her memories, if he wanted to.

Maybe it would be for the best. A Time Lord and a human, it could never work...

But like she said last night, a life with him, in any form, never works. It seemed that the Universe was adamant that he could not stay with someone for too long. So why should it matter. It hurt when any of them left, but that didn't stop him having fun with them in the meantime.

Not that it was just _having fun_ with Amy. He loved her with both of all his hearts and no matter how bad an idea this situation was, no matter how sensible it would be to stop this now, he couldn't. He just couldn't. And he _especially_ couldn't wipe Amy's memories, not after everything that had happened with Rory. To do so would be unforgivable.

He looked out to the window, watching as the dawn broke, trying to keep his mind clear, trying to think. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, he found he knew the answer, of course he knew the answer: he loved her, and he was happy, as was she. He didn't want to 'fix' this, he didn't want to stop it from happening. He should, but he wouldn't.

He walked back over to the bed and crawled back in it, leaving the towel on the floor behind him. Amy woke up, bleary eyed.

"What's wrong?" She asked, feeling the rapidly vanishing worry that was leaving the Doctor's mind. He took her in his arms, holding her closely, and she snuggled into his chest happily, quickly drifting back to sleep again between the Doctors beating hearts.

* * *

Thanks to smiles2go for helping me out with this chapter :)


	28. Chapter 28

It didn't take long for Amy to wake up again, seeing as she had slept so much in the days before. The Doctor hadn't fallen asleep again, he'd simply lain there, holding her as she slept, relishing in this simple act of intimacy. He even switched off, for a bit, did that wonderfully human thing of just _not thinking_, just to be still.

Amy eventually stretched, only a couple of hours later, and rubbed her cheek against his chest, relishing in the feel of his warm skin. She looked up, a fleeting look of surprise crossing her face.

"What?" Asked the Doctor, a slight panicky worry clenching his chest, though he suppressed it. Now was not the time to get emotional; now was _definitely _not the time for that. Empathic links could be very tricky to handle at first, before they learnt to tell whose feelings were who's.

"It wasn't a dream." She said with a smile, and the worry passed in his chest passed. He smiled, and planted a kiss on her forehead before leaping up and out of bed and throwing on a dressing gown.

"I think we need breakfast!" He exclaimed with a grin. "You're human, which means you need to eat a lot!"

"Oy!" She said, sitting up and propping herself against the pillows. "What do you mean a lot?"

"Three meals a day? Plus snacks?" He told her, as he opened up a wall panel to reveal what looked like an electronic menu. "That makes about... Two thousand calories, probably more, plus all the fat and salt and-"

"Alright," She interrupted. "But you eat too. Do I need to remind you of, oh, fish fingers and custard?"

"Yes, I eat," He told her, typing in the pad. "But I don't eat as much as you do even in a week! Although, this week you haven't exactly eaten enough either. The TARDIS is probably doing her best to help out, but you do really need to eat." He looked back at her. "Did you say fish fingers and custard?"

"What do you mean the TARDIS is helping out?" She asked.

"It's like the languages," he told her as he intently pressed buttons. "The TARDIS gets into your head and helps you out. She doesn't want to see you starve so she slows down your metabolism, for as long as she can."

"Right..." She said. It made sense; she hadn't eaten anything much in days. She suddenly felt her stomach grumble.

"And now you just realised it, which means you're suddenly very hungry." He told her, looking round to see her looking a bit grumpy, and controlling himself so he wouldn't be too. "Don't worry; breakfast will be here any second now."

There was a knock on the door, almost on cue. The Doctor opened it, and took the tray from the woman behind the door, who also hooked two leis on his arm with a wink, before retreating down the corridor. He shrugged them off and walked back over to the bed, sitting on it and placing the tray carefully down.

"What is it?" Amy asked, and the Doctor took the lid off of the plate. "You've got to be kidding." She told him incredulously.

"What?" He told her, looking down at it, a little crestfallen. "It's breakfast."

"It's fish fingers and custard." She told him.

"A brand new meal for a brand new day." He took a breaded stick from the plate, dipped it in the thick yellow liquid and quickly popped it in his mouth, eating it in seconds.

"It's fish custard," She told him again. "That's not normal."

He took another stick and dipped it in the custard before placing it near her lips. "It's breakfast."

She glared at him, though with humour, he could feel, before edging forwards. She reluctantly placed the stick in her mouth, sucking off the custard with a raised eyebrow. The Doctor swallowed in unison with her. Dipping it back in the custard, he put it in front of her mouth. "Eat." He instructed. She rolled her eyes and took a bite, hunger overcoming her reluctance.

"Well?" He asked as she chewed with a slightly confused expression on her face. "What do you think."

She swallowed it down and wiped her lips. "It's fish custard."


	29. Chapter 29

The Doctor accepted the plate of food from the woman at the door, who this time had come unarmed, no leis in sight, and went back to the bed, placing the plate in Amy's duvet clad lap. She lifted the cover, and smiled in delight.

"Mmm, fry-up," She sighed. "Now _that's _breakfast."

"To you," He said, wrinkling his nose. "I remember that being disgusting."

"I remember too," She laughed, taking a bite of bacon. "You spat it out in the sink."

"My mouth was all new, all different!" He cried in indignation.

"Does that give you bad table manners, too?" She asked with a grin as she ate a fried egg.

"Yes..." The Doctor mused, chewing another fish finger. "I guess that wasn't exactly polite, was it?"

"No!" Amy told him. "You ask me to fry you something, and when I do you spit it out. It's very rude." She told him with a pout.

The Doctor carefully removed his meal from the bed, putting it on the floor beside his feet, before stretching his hand out and gently placed it on Amy's cheek. She leant her face into his hand, and he could feel the weight of her pressing down on it. "I'm sorry." He told her, both of them understanding his sincerity. He wasn't just apologising for offending her cooking skills, it was for more than that; it was for making her wait fourteen years, and it was for everything that had happened since.

Amy said nothing in return, instead taking the Doctor's other hand and tugging him gently further onto the bed, forcing him to go on all fours to stay upright. She brought her lips to his in a powerful kiss, saying all the things that she wanted to say; the forgiveness that words would have lacked.

He pulled away, only slightly, so that he was speaking onto her lips. "Aren't you hungry?" He asked, glancing down at the plate that contained scraps of bacon and egg on it.

"Oh yeah..." She said, shoving the plate off of the bed, which landed on the floor with a crash. "Starving, Doctor." She told him seductively as she took hold of the lapels of his dressing gown and tugged him on top of her, smashing their lips together again.


	30. Chapter 30

The Doctor and Amy didn't leave the room for a few days, though they enjoyed it far more than when Amy had tried this on her own. They had food sent up regularly, as the Doctor was very concerned about her eating habits now; she needed to keep her energy up.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Amy asked him as she snuggled into his chest and under his arm, a position that she found especially comfortable.

The Doctor stopped trailing his fingertips up her arm. "You want to go?" He asked happily, hope in his voice.

"No..." She sighed. "I like it here."

"Oh." Said the Doctor, a little disappointed. "So do I."

Amy shifted so she was looking up to his eyes. "You want to go?" She asked.

"No," He told her, a little too quickly. "Course not, it's great here. We've got the bed, and a TV, and a little drawer with nothing in it. Everyone needs one of those."

"You're bored!" She exclaimed, sitting up and pulling the duvet round her.

"No!" He told her again, but couldn't keep the truth out of his face. "Well..."

"How can you be bored?" She asked him, somewhat upset; The Doctor quickly put up his emotional walls... this could get tricky.

"We've been in the same room for days... Don't you want a change of scenery?"

Amy narrowed her eyes, woman's intuition coupled with their link making her incredibly astute.

"And?" She asked.

The Doctor pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw before answering. "I've never travelled with a girlfriend before."

"I'm your girlfriend?" Amy asked, somewhat surprised by her title.

"Aren't you?" The Doctor replied, worried that he had misunderstood their situation. That would be bad, very bad.

"Does that make you my boyfriend?" She returned, and he wrinkled his nose at the thought.

"I see what you mean... I'm not exactly 'boyfriend'"

"How about 'manfriend', would you prefer that?" She asked teasingly. "Partner? Significant other?"

"They all sound so... normal." Said the Doctor, pulling a face at the thought. Amy laughed, suddenly energetic, and quickly placed a kiss on the Doctor's forehead before leaving the bed. "Where are you going?" He asked.

"I'm getting dressed." She told him as she put on her clothes, tossing him some too. "So are you."

"Why?" He asked, confused. Their recent activities hadn't generally involved clothes.

"We're going travelling, Doctor." She told him with a smile, and looked down to the floor, spying something. "Wearing these." She picked up the flowered lei beside her feet and placed it round her neck, the pink clashing beautifully with her red hair, and threw the other to the Doctor.

"Amy Pond," He said as he begun to get dressed. "You're magnificent."


	31. Chapter 31

"So am I the first?" Amy asked the Doctor as they strolled from the foyer, hand in hand, onto the sand. They had just left the hotel after paying and leaving a generous tip, not that money meant much to a man who could get all the financial riches he needed within a few seconds.

"The first what?" The Doctor asked as he struggled to turn off the wheel function on Amy's case, something that he had somehow wound up carrying.

"Girlfriend?" She explained, testing out the title.

"What?" The Doctor said, still struggling with the contraption. He eventually managed to get the wheels out of the way. "Sorry, right, girlfriend. Not exactly." He told her vaguely.

"What does that mean?" She asked, looking back to him with curiosity. "Have there been others?"

"Like I said, I had a family back before the war, I had a big family. But that was a long time ago." They walked in silence for a bit, both feeling the distinct sadness that came with the discussion. Amy, while still not aware of the link on a conscious level, knew quickly that she should move past that.

"What about since then?" She asked.

"Well..." The Doctor said, vague again, and Amy pinched him on the arm.

"You did, didn't you?" She asked, rubbing his arm where she pinched him after he squealed in pain.

"Maybe, one or two. Not many, definitely not many. Nothing serious, at all." He looked at her, trying to look innocent.

"Oh!" She said, mulling the idea over. "The Doctor with a girl on every planet... is that what you're like?"

"No." He said with a laugh. "If I was like that, we would have started _this _a long time ago." He poked her nose with his fingertip.

"True..." She mused as they reached the TARDIS doors. The Doctor opened the door with ease and threw the bag in, but didn't walk in. "When did you get the doors open?" Amy asked, peering in.

"Oh..." The Doctor began, unsure of what to say. "It was a time thing. She needed alone time."

Amy raised an eyebrow, instinctively knowing he was fibbing. "Doctor..."

He sighed. "She locked us out until we sorted ourselves out."

"Really?" Amy laughed. "She does that?"

"I believe the words _'I won't have children flying me' _were used." He told her, shame faced.

"Good on her." Amy said, still chuckling. The Doctor could feel her good mood emanating, and allowed it in, smiling with her. "Why aren't we going inside?"

"I want to show you something first." He told her.

"Oh, what?" Amy asked, looking around and sweeping the hair out of her eyes.

"The sand."

"What about it?" She asked.

"Grab a handful, like you're making a snowball." He instructed, and she did so. She waited a couple of seconds before smiling.

"It's still moving," She said in awe. "It feels..."

"Alive." The Doctor told her, smiling. "The whole planet is alive."

"It's beautiful..." She whispered, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at the Doctor. He took hold of her hands and separated them, letting the sand trickle out, finding its own way from her hands and back onto the floor.

"Earth is alive too." He told her.

"The sand doesn't move." She told him with a scoff.

"And that doesn't make it any less brilliant." He told her softly as he squeezed her hands. "Humans are the most resilient, wonderful, absolutely fantastic species I've come across, and you, Amy Pond, are the best of them."

Amy said nothing in return, simply looking up at the most magnificent man she had ever known. After a few seconds, she leant up and pressed her lips to his, winding her arms round his neck; a kiss that started gentle but quickly became more feverish and passionate as they backed into the TARDIS and shut the door, leaving the sands of Space Florida behind.

* * *

_Finit._

Again, not quite. Damnit, this story still aint done; there's a sequel, the first chapter of it is up on my profile. It's going to be a little different, I'm writing it exactly around the events of the series finalé. In some chapters of this fic, I did borrow from the show in terms of scenes and dialogue (in the first chapter especially), but the next one will be like that in every chapter... with a few major differences.

Love you all, thank you for reading and reviewing, I love each and every one of you. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

P.S. My twitter is **mrsjessicawho**, can we be friends please?


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